


On The Road

by flinchflower



Series: Slash Me Twice [71]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Impala, M/M, Spanking, Travel, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-15
Updated: 2013-10-15
Packaged: 2017-12-29 11:35:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1004956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/pseuds/flinchflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 71: Kink.  The Winchester boys move on out from the reservation, back on the road.  Only the problem with traveling with a parent and two children is that boys get restless...</p>
            </blockquote>





	On The Road

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not for profit, simply a writing exercise. Herein lies Dean/Sam slash, in an AU timeline where John did not lose his life. John appears in parental context only. Follows in series from previous prompts, but stands alone if preferred.

Grey Fox Running stood watching the sky. He’d fasted, the last day, and looked for a vision in the sunrise. He was done teaching the Winchester boys. Trickster called them on, it was time for them to go, before they put a kink in his tail he wouldn’t be able to untie. Most of his days were spent alone on the mountain, not going down to the reservation very often, at least until winter. Then he was needed for teaching. He’d suspected last night that they were through, the men seemed rested, and Sam’s last lesson and trial had been two days ago. 

It was no little surprise to him to return to the cave to find John and the boys breaking down the camp they’d shared for the last three weeks, neatly and efficiently. The walk down the mountain was comfortable, the sky was clouded over just a little, and it was neither too gloomy, nor too cheerful, almost as if the coming rain had a purpose to it. Grey squinted at the sky. Cleansing, if he’s any judge. They clear off the car, and he could swear that John is touching it as delicately as he might a woman, and he hopes that the noises Dean’s making – well, there’s no hope for it. The boy is crooning over the car. Sam gives him an amused look.

“See what I put up with,” he hisses, and gets a sharp little exhale from Grey – as close as the man’s going to get to a laugh. He’s not sure how he feels about leaving. He meant what he said to John about being able to be in the wilderness for a long while, but part of him is thinking yearningly towards an actual bed, frankly.

“Know where you’re headed,” Grey asks, and gets a negative headshake from John.

“Need to make some calls. Hunt if there’s something simple, out of the way, otherwise head somewhere to train. Our cells are out of range, up here, so who knows.”

“I owe you,” Sam says softly, and the Irish Indian’s grey eyes soften, looking at his friend, thinking of everything Sam and Jess had done for him at Stanford, half a continent and another country away.

“Nah. Come back when there’s not something on your tail.”

Sam nods, shaking his hand, hugging him. “Call if you need us.”

And that’s that, the Impala turns over with a cough that has Dean muttering, and they’re gliding down off the mountain. Sam feels heavy for a moment, but then the smell of sage and leather filters through his thoughts, and there’s salt under his feet on the floorboards. It’ll be all right.

“HAH!”

They’ve been on the road for hours and hours when the noise comes from Dean, Sam knows that sound, which is the noise that all of them make when they finally get a cell phone signal, and pulls out his own phone. Nothing. Not surprising, no one’s looking for anything for him for once, and from the sounds of it, Dean doesn’t have anything, either. Then again, everyone who knows them is aware they’re with John, sticking together and laying low.

“Dad, maybe-“

“No Dean, you’re not checking my messages for me.”

“If you-“

“I’m not wasting the gas to pull over so you can drive.” John has another ulterior motive for that, as well. There’s something a little funny with the suspension at the moment, and he’d rather drive her himself, trust the relationship and understanding he has of her. And, of course, save Sammy and himself from several hundred miles of tense, bitching Dean, because that’s what his oldest boy does when there’s something wrong with their baby. Er, the Impala, John corrects himself, with a glance at Sammy. A quick hand scratching his beard hides a grin, gets a suspicious look from his youngest, and watches Dean slump against the door. It isn’t worth hoping that either of the boys will sleep more today, they’ve lived light the last two days, resting up in preparation for leaving.

He gets another two hundred miles under the wheels, slips through border crossing without incident – some days he thinks they could maybe just run for Canada – and then Dean’s whipping around in his seat giving a dirty look to Sam.

“Knock it off, Sammy.”

“It’s Sam.”

“Whatever, just keep your giant feet to yourself-“

“I wasn’t doing anything!”

“You-“ Dean lunges over the seat, despite the restraining seatbelt, and swipes for Sam. It doesn’t quite work, and John eyes the fracas with narrowed eyes. 

“Dean, sit down. Sam, enough.”

The whine is nearly deafening. “I didn’t DO anything! I had to stretch, we’ve been driving for hours and it’s godawful close in here-“

“SAM.” It gets the silence he was hoping for. He does have to admit, although they kept clean in the stream, washing up, they are all in need of a long hot shower. He hears his youngest boy shift in his seat, take a breath to continue, and John quickly forestalls anything else. “I’m not in the mood. Another word, and you’ll regret it. That goes for you, too, Dean.”

Another fifty miles goes by. They’re in the farmland in the south of Michigan, he wants to get into Indiana or Kentucky before he stops – again in the backwaters, because Dean’s little issue with the feds sn’t straightened out just yet. Just the thought of having to cope with that sends more aggravation shooting through him again. Sam of course, picks that moment to shift again, and then Dean’s got his seatbelt off and is lunging for the backseat. Dammit.

He simply grabs Dean’s belt with one hand, noting that they’re not paying any attention to his bellowed commands. All right then. Suddenly he’s glad they’re on the damn back roads. He spots a likely turn off and hauls on the wheels, bringing the Impala to a halt in a cloud of dust on one of the inevitable two tracks that leads into a cornfield. All without letting go of Dean’s belt. Which turns out to be handy. He pops his door open, snarls at a shocked Sam to not move, and uses the leverage on his oldest son’s belt to haul the kid over his lap, shifting just slightly to the right so he’s got a clear path to swing on his target. There’s shocked silence for the first half a dozen swats.

“Dad, DAD, OW! Let me go – Dad!” Good. It’s getting through to him, apparently. John just keeps on spanking, reflecting on Dean’s age briefly, wondering how long he wants to spank for. He decides to himself, really, it has nothing to do with age. It really has more to do with obedience, or in this case, submission. He’s perfectly aware that he’s lighting a fire on his son’s behind, and that it’s more than he’d usually hand out. They are not, however, going to have this conversation twice. He lightens the swats considerably when Dean finally goes limp, so that the spanking continues, but isn’t laying down any new pain, just keeping the blaze he’s created well stoked. He suspects, frankly, that Dean is tired, and if he can keep it up a little longer, it will completely wear him out. John’s well aware that he’s not even going to leave a bruise on the boy, that by tomorrow morning the heat and color will have faded most of the way. Then he hauls the boy out of the car, and faces him up to a big willow tree. 

“Stand there, don’t move, or I swear to God I’ll cut a switch,” he growls, knowing it’ll take a threat to ensure obedience right now. Then he strides back to the car, pops the back door open, looking at his favorite shrinking violet in the backseat. “Out,” he says, with some gentleness. Works better with this one, better than the commands, he’s learning, and Sam slinks out.

“Dad,” comes the pleading, “I was just stretching…”

John gives him a measuring look. “The second and third time, too?”

Sam’s face is red, and the silence gives him all the answer he needs. He leads the kid round to the back of the car, takes a seat on the trunk, and hauls Sam over his lap. Works better with this boy, since he’s so tall… John brings the first slap down in the center of Sam’s backside, and ignores the yelp. This one’s a little different, he simply makes an effort to heat up the entirety of Sam’s backside, with particular attention to the crease between thighs and bottom. Sam detests that especially, and it’s only a few swats later that he gets pleading and promises. Now he lays down the law, spanking harder, and giving a quiet little lecture between rounds of swatting. Sam’s probably only gotten a third of the spanking his brother did before he gives up, shivering limply across John’s lap. He helps the boy up, and stands him in front of a tree on the opposite side of the road.

And finally, he turns out his pocket to get at his cell phone.

**Author's Note:**

> Soundtrack: Top Gun - Destination Unknown


End file.
